


i know who you pretend i am

by gabriphales



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23669899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: a sheepish, withdrawn crowley in the late 60's comes to an effective compromise with one particular archangel (i.e, gabriel and crowley both fuck their shared sexual frustrations out with each other)
Relationships: Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Kudos: 36





	i know who you pretend i am

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes u just gotta write porn w/ the tiniest dash of feelings am i right anyways shy subby crowley rights

"Come here," Gabriel's voice leaves little room for hesitance. "I can help you."

Crowley's stomach twists in that uncomfortable, unfortunately familiar way. Adrenaline rushes wracking any and all body functions, leaving him weak in his legs. He can't take another step forward, not even if he tries. And he isn't sure he really  _ wants  _ to try.

"I said  _ come here, _ demon. What, scared I'm going to hurt you? I wouldn't need to lure you in for that. I could smite you right where you stand if I had the  _ slightest _ desire to do so." Gabriel continues tossing demands, clearly high on six-thousand years of ruling the Heavenly Kingdom, keeping everyone else in check. He's used to a certain kind of power dynamic, and is determined to exert that over Crowley--regardless of how ridiculous it makes him seem.

"That's actually not that reassuring." Crowley offers a snide retort, unable to restrain himself.

"It should be." Gabriel quips, getting snippier by the second. "Listen, I'm not trying to scare you, alright? We just... happen to have some--some  _ indiscretions _ we share in common with one another. And I think it would be best for the both of us if we could, perhaps, consider working them out together. Alone. Like this."

"Once again, not reassuring."

Gabriel pinches at the stem of his furrowed brow, grumbling something under his breath. "Oh, for the love of-- _ Crowley _ \--yes, I know your name--Aziraphale isn't available to either of us in the manner we desire. Clearly, we could be doing  _ something _ about that, don't you think? Temper the urges with a substitute, if you get what I'm saying."

Crowley stares back at him, blank as sheet paper.

"Good  _ god, _ do I really have to say it?" Gabriel finally cracks. "In my professional opinion, I think we should be fucking. Your thoughts?"

And the twisting in Crowley's stomach turns to a sinking, steady burn. The kind of burn he's been denying himself for the past sixty centuries. The kind of burn that leaves open flames licking up his throat, his mouth coughing out smoke. Too frightened to indulge that temptation, yet too selfish to deny himself it entirely. He's let the impure imagery linger in his mind far longer than any truly careful soul should. The thoughts of his angel, with arms around his neck. Legs sweetly interlocked, more tender than would ever be allowed outside of any fantasy iteration. All the gentle sounds, the heavy breathing turned to rapid, frantic gasps. Hyperventilation in its purest, most glorious form. Crowley's enjoyed thinking about that, he's enjoyed it more times than he'd like to admit. 

And here's Gabriel, offering him another way out. A coping mechanism, of sorts. An artificial consolation prize, designed with the sole intent of keeping them both in line. Crowley feels he needs to be kept in line. And he's _ certain _ that Gabriel, regardless of the matter, is  _ always _ crossing somebody's boundaries, one way or another. He's just that sort of fellow, too oblivious, and purposely ignorant to do anything else.

"Well... you're not obliged, you know that, right?" Crowley asks, eyes flicking up from the stained motel carpet he'd been burning them into for the past twelve minutes. His internal debate coming to a finishing close, only resting upon Gabriel's final answer.

"Wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't. Besides, you’re not exactly intimidating. Couldn’t talk me into anything I didn’t want to do.” Gabriel laughs, all brash and loud, painfully untempered. He’s got the same level of self-awareness as a rabid animal, Crowley thinks, and the vicious disposition to match. At least for now, he’ll be holding the reins, steering Gabriel towards a more tamed, subdued manner of existing. If that’s even possible for a creature like himself.

“Alright,” Gabriel starts, the motel door behind him locking shut with a notifying  _ click _ . “lay back for now, I already know what I want to start off with.”

Crowley shuffles back on the bed as Gabriel takes another step towards him, nerves rising ever so slightly. “Don’t you want to--aren’t you going to warm up to it?”

“‘Course, just have some ideas, that’s all.” 

Gabriel’s hand lays thick and splayed across his chest, more heavy than Crowley would have expected as he pushes him down. Gently, ever so gently. He doesn’t kiss him. Not on the mouth, at least. And Crowley’s not sure if he’s thankful for that, or slightly mournful for the lost opportunity.

Instead, Gabriel delivers the press of his mouth in full, divine myriad. Nipping at the edge of his throat, sinking his teeth into quivering, overheated flesh. Crowley’s freezing, he’s freezing, he must be--hot to the point the feeling starts to fold over into a shuddering, bitter cold. There’s no reason for him to be so nervous. No quick, concise dash of fortitude he can summon to ease his nerves away. 

Gabriel’s the same height as him, really, but he looks so much…  _ bigger, _ hovering over him like this. Pressing him into the mattress, shifting his body so he can comfortably straddle his hips. His thighs are thicker, fuller; his shoulders broad and domineering by inherent nature. Aziraphale had described him as a bit of a brawny fellow on more than one occasion, and he hadn’t been wrong, it appears. Crowley has to struggle not to wonder how his angel isn’t left cowering away in some mousy corner after every meeting upstairs. He has to struggle not to think about Aziraphale whatsoever, actually. 

Though, perhaps he needn’t restrict himself that particular pleasure. After all, this is supposed to be a matter of dealing with their--apparently shared--fascinations with the object of their desire. Even if he were to close his eyes, of course, he wouldn’t be able to imagine Aziraphale here, taking Gabriel’s place. No, no his hands are far too rough, far too calloused and forward as they slip under the slim fit of Crowley’s turtleneck. He hasn’t even gotten his jacket off yet, and Gabriel’s already feeling him up. Fingers dragging up the expanse of his stomach, across his chest, and just  _ resting _ there--as if stunned for a lack of anything to grope. 

"You're so bony," he chuckles, letting his fingers trail along the bumps and jaunts of Crowley’s ribs. Dipping between the junctions of soft, supple flesh. Touching, feeling, gripping at his hips before toying with his belt buckle.

"My apologies, wouldn't want to get in the way of your fantasy." Crowley can't resist a tad of snark, his grin slipping teeth as Gabriel rolls his eyes.

"Hush. I'm not going to pretend you're  _ actually _ an angel under my jurisdiction. What kind of boss would that make me?" Gabriel says, sickly sweet as he presses a shushing finger to Crowley’s trembling mouth.

"Now be good for me, and don't talk back. Just for a few minutes. Do you think you can handle that?"

Crowley nods, seething to the short extent he can manage without it being too obvious. Obvious to Gabriel, at least.

"Good boy." Gabriel mutters, letting his voice lower to a gentler, more patient tone. Lilt dripping in saccharine, baptized in the frothy waters of his own predisposition for fucking the first thing he can get on its back with consent. Crowley shivers at the words, wincing with the effort it takes to contain his arousal.

The belt buckle comes undone. He's shaking, genuinely, actually shaking. Letting his teeth etch markings in the patterns of his molars against his inner cheek. His tongue presses fast to the roof of his mouth. Tense, entirely still. Pressing forwards until he can feel it prick against the sharp points of his fangs, taste the iron of his own blood.

"So pretty," Gabriel lets the praise slip without thinking, tugging down Crowley’s trousers and briefs in one go. "they must love you downstairs, don't they?"

Crowley’s legs lock shut. Clamped together by pure instinct, and overrun with shudders. His eyes squeeze closed, and he can't look, he just  _ can't  _ look at Gabriel. He twists his head away. Flustered, flushed red to the very tips of his ears. He can hear Gabriel chuckling, can feel the heat of his tingling breath. And something about the rasp in his voice makes his stomach do nervous, hopelessly aroused flips.

"I don't--we're not exactly hosting orgies down there all the time, y'know? Better--b- _ better _ things to do, yeah?" Crowley tries a hand at achieving his former sassiness, falling short within seconds. He still doesn't open his eyes, not even as Gabriel’s hands stroke smooth and comforting over his knees. Not bothering to spread his legs for him. Just waiting-- _ patient _ .

"They're missing out." Gabriel says, a little too genuinely. "Have you ever even done this before?"

Crowley’s silent. How could he not be? How could he not go quiet at the acknowledgement that he's terribly, quite  _ awfully _ inexperienced. Especially coming from someone like Gabriel.

"Hey, that's alright. Don't go getting all shy on me now. I'll make it good for you, okay? Promise." 

Gabriel’s soothing, regardless of how well-intentioned he might be, does little to help Crowley. In fact, it really just makes him want to die that teensy bit more, if only to avoid a second longer of being consumed from head to toe. Witnessed so vulnerable, so hesitant at the same time. He's really quite the pitiful demon. Too corrupt for Heaven, too softhearted for Hell. It's a wonder he hasn’t been properly excommunicated from both sides yet.

"Do you want to stop?" Gabriel asks, sounding small--terribly ironic for the sort of oversized man he is.

Crowley shakes his head. "No, just nervous."

"Well! You're in luck, dear demon. I just so happen to be the pioneer of fucking for the sake of the fuck." Gabriel states all too proudly.

"Adam and Eve only got down to business for the whole end result, so to speak. But I--"

"Oh  _ god. _ "

"--I just so happened to get the bright idea--"

" _ Please _ don't keep talking."

"--to see what those humans were getting up to. Specifically, through personal experience!"

"I literally can never have sex now. I've officially decided it. Abstinence is in for this demon." Crowley all but groans. Finally letting his legs fall spread, despite making a show of his irritation. Gabriel’s eyes simmer over with something delighted. A golden, gleaming pleasure. He settles down onto his stomach, fitting easily between Crowley’s open thighs.

"Goodness, aren't you just  _ ravishing? _ And so cute too, look at that blush." Gabriel says, his fingers curling around the head of Crowley’s cock. Pressing a thumb through the sweet, slick slide of his slit. Crowley murmurs something high and whiny, incomprehensible thanks to his own hand shooting up to clasp over his mouth. At least he's still got enough sense to manage that. Thank  _ somebody. _

It's painfully obvious Gabriel wants to suck him off. Although he's taking his time, working Crowley up to the main event with soft, careful pumps of his hand. There's nothing he can do to prevent his  _ staring _ . Eyes boring into Crowley like he's quite eager to eat him right up. Get his tongue and teeth on tender, inexperienced flesh. That's probably doing something for him, after all. He seems the type to like virgins.

Crowley wishes the thought wasn't nagging at him as well.

"Can't believe nobody's ever touched you before. Is Hell really that putrid? That they can't appreciate something so lovely as you?" Gabriel says, talking to himself more than he's talking to Crowley. Crowley fidgets, whether with nerves, or with the strain of holding back his quivering hips, he isn’t sure.

"What a shame. I'll look after you now, demon. Whatever you need, you can come to me."

Something violent glints in Gabriel’s eyes. A possessive pleasure, comforted by the knowledge Crowley might come to rely on him for this sort of thing. His hand stills, drawing back. Crowley clutches one of the pillows at his side, pressing it over his face with quick disregard for the musty motel smell imprinted within its fabric.

"You're hiding from me now? Silly demon." Gabriel laughs, ruffling the fluff of Crowley’s bangs that had managed to stick out from under the pillow.

"'M  _ embarrassed _ ." Crowley whines. "'S not helping."

Gabriel doesn't have anything else remarkably stupid, or teasingly condescending to say. He's quiet--for the first time in his life, Crowley imagines--as he shuffles further down the bed. Pushing his thighs just that slightest bit more apart, and finally,  _ finally  _ getting his mouth on him.

Crowley quite nearly sobs. The sound is blanketed, thankfully shushed by his motel pillow, but he's certain Gabriel still heard it. His leisurely, lackadaisical pace is utterly  _ torturous _ . Pure agony as the throbbing between Crowley’s legs grows to match the speed and intensity of his pulse. Heart racing, thrumming in his throat, his stomach, his chest. 

" _ Please, _ " he gasps, a traitorously weak noise. His body is absolutely determined to humiliate him, it seems. "please, I can't--I can't--"

"Need me to go faster?" Gabriel sneers. Crowley can practically hear the gloating, self-aggrandized grin he must be sporting. It doesn't infuriate him as much as he thinks it should.

" _ Obviously. _ " Crowley seethes through gritted teeth.

The lips around his cock seem to tighten, Gabriel's mouth is warm and soft as he swallows him down. Earnest and enraptured with the taste of Crowley, letting his tongue flatten and drag up the sides, settling to fiddle with a particularly pronounced vein as he takes a moment to prepare himself. There's an unsteady puff of air from Gabriel’s nose, and then he's sinking down to the hilt.

Crowley falters, hips jerking wildly, fucking into the precious heat of Gabriel’s throat. His guilt heightens, if only for a moment, before he sees that glazed over, adoring look possessing every last inch of Gabriel’s features. Peeking over the edge of the pillow, and getting a heaven-sent view--Gabriel, red-faced and half-lidded. With spittle dribbling down his chin. Wet, swollen lips glistening in the dim lightning. He struggles not to choke from the sight alone. 

Impossibly, Gabriel’s become one of the most breathtaking things he's ever bore witness to. And he knows it, he  _ knows  _ it. Of course he does, with the snarky wink he tosses back to Crowley the second their eyes meet.

His stomach starts to tighten, fuzzing over with warmth to an overbearing extent. Crowley can't keep still, squirming all throughout the length of his anticipation. Awaiting the impending orgasm he knows is coming, and, if he’s being honest, he's slightly anxious for. 

There's a hand on his hips, a tongue rubbing through his slit, and he cums. Frenzied, nearly rabid, he wiggles and writhes about. His legs flinching,  _ jolting _ , threatening to knee Gabriel directly in the side of his (admittedly thick) skull. 

There's a distinct, softly wet noise that pricks at Crowley's ears as Gabriel finally pulls off. He wipes his mouth clean, gloriously beaming, overflowing with pride.

"You ready for more?" he asks, too cheeky for Crowley to back down.

"Of fucking course." Crowley snips, tossing his pillow aside, and pressing Gabriel down onto his back. Fully prepared for everything else the night might have to offer.


End file.
